Rebirth
by BrookeSutter
Summary: After a traumatic trip to Georgia, Clarke is broken. This is the story of her rebirth.


It was a solitary hum.

"_Love is weakness." _

Comparable to the machine buzz she was once familiar with as a child. The longing gnawed at her chest like a burning prod for the pitch black blanket of security the universe once offered her instead of this nonstop, unforgiving chaos that relentlessly bit into her skin, only encourage when there was proof of life or proof that she was alive despite the ongoing torture. If she shielded her stormy blue eyes from the broken buildings and desperate destruction, she could envision the welded metal walls of her former home. In that moment, she could easily pretend this Earth wasn't real—she could revert back to her former idealistic vision of the "unreachable" planet.

Her eyes would not close. She wanted to squeeze them tightly, she wanted to fall on her knees and give up but she could not do it. One foot in front of the other, she attempted the complicated task of _walking _in a straight line without shaking—without falling. She felt like a toddler, stumbling and tripping over air and debris. Clarke fondly remembered the stories concerning her advancement at a young age. Her mother would religiously brag about her first steps, her first words, her first _everything _and now it felt like a stab in the throat every time the memory resurfaced. Her mother wasn't bragging about her first kill, was she? Or her first bullet wound? First decision as undebatable leader?

People are screaming.

It was her first realization as the fog started to slowly lift. Bodies mercilessly ran in different directions, colliding with hers without so much as an apology. She should have been running, too but from what? Why was she even here?

The New Atlanta, Georgia. There were ruins of houses and skyscrapers everywhere but there were also signs of regrowth. There were houses that hadn't been hit, there were skyscrapers that hadn't fallen in the wake of the nuclear war. There was a fully functioning city before her eyes, crumbling because of panic among the masses.

But why was she even there?

Her, specifically.

"_I've got nowhere else to go, Kane. Take me with you. Whatever journey you're going on, take me with you. I can't stay here." _

She almost toppled over when the weight of a man slammed into her. He looked at her, his mouth moving in the form of a helpless apology before he continued in the direction he was running in. She stopped walking in the middle of an intersection, her eyes following the stranger before her eyebrows furrowed and her lips parted. A strangled sound erupted through her before two calloused hands rested on her face. "Are you hurt?" She didn't hear his voice at first, just read his lips as the buzz continued to ring in her head. "Are you hurt?" Kane's voice finally pierced through her veil. "Clarke? Clarke! Are you hurt?"

Clarke shook her head slowly, "It's not my blood."

**SIX MONTHS LATER:**

The ringing appears when she least expects it. One second, she's carving stones into arrowheads and the next her hands are shaking uncontrollably until the pieces land in the dirt. Or she's washing mud from underneath her fingernails and the brown stream turns into a crimson red and she can freezes. Tonight, she's three steps away from getting to third base with some random guy who can barely hold his moonshine and everything washes over her. She pushes him, "Stop." He doesn't. She pushes again, "Stop!" She yells louder and he still doesn't. Her hand connects with his cheek and she harshly says, "I said stop. That means stop."

He stumbles back while she walks away from him. God, she hates the way the camp looks at night. Her fingers pull her jacket around her body as she starts to shake again. She wants it to stop but it never does. It never does. She still won't talk about what happened in Georgia and for good reason—people already look at her like she's a monster. As if they wouldn't have made the same calls in her situation. She often thinks that they are all hypocrites because they've never been _there. _Clarke rests her head against the metal of the Ark and tries to calm her breathing. She doesn't expect anyone to stop in their footfalls and ask her if she's alright. That stopped her first month back.

She's in this alone and she doesn't even have the strength to care that everyone's left her for dead. She can't blame them, either. She's not half the person she used to be. All that "save everyone" shit was the equivalent of hope and she didn't harvest any room for hope. Hope was the main ingredient to disappointment. She sucks in a lungful of air before she straightens her body and starts to walk down the corridor towards her own room. Except, she walks right by her room until she's outside of the constructed area of a permanent settlement. Clarke shoves her hands into her pocket before she enters the Strategy &amp; Communications Hut.

"That was quick." Kane comments under his breath as he moves pieces around the outdated map. She dislikes how he feels he has the authority to discuss her troublesome sex life. Yet, she never tells him differently. Marcus Kane filled the role of unmarried uncle as if it were his destiny. His snide comments and judgments were something she was used to at this point but he wasn't trying to "corrupt" her despite the rumors circling around them. Kane lifts his head to look at her, "You okay?"

Clarke shrugs, "I'm ready to get out of here. Look for different colonies."

He chuckles, "We are grounded, or have you forgotten your mother's order?"

Abby Griffin was a pain in Clarke's ass. After Lexa's betrayal and the things Clarke had to do to get her friends back, their relationship proved to be strained. Her relationships with everyone proved to be strained. So, she decided to explore with Kane after a few months of the silent treatment. Then, Georgia happened and now they were back in Camp Jaha—back to square one. The months away from the camp didn't change anything, everyone was still pissed or some sort of angry with her choices. Whether it was leaving in the first place or her choice to come back… she didn't know. "How can I forget? We're just sitting here. It's boring. We're wasting time."

"It wouldn't be so boring if you changed your routine sometime. Drinking, fucking, sleeping, crying—it's quite tedious after a while, don't you think? You could try to mend your relationships. Your mother seems to be making an effort to keep you here. That has to mean something."

"That she hates me."

…

"Are you really a bitter drunk?" Clarke snorts as she listens to the little girl standing before her. At least she has the guts to confront Clarke unlike the older individuals of camp. It's about ten in the morning and Clarke isn't a drunk as she could be. She likes having a haze over her brain when she has to talk to people but this morning feels different. She feels different even if she hates the idea of change. "That's what they say about you when you walk by." She couldn't have been older than eight but her eyes say that she is older than she appears. Everyone is older than they appear. The mixture of brown hair, smooth skin and her dimple chin are evidence of her youthful beauty. Clarke can't remember the last time she saw someone she regarded as purely beautiful. "I don't think you're a bitter drunk. I think you're just sad."

"Sad, huh?" Clarke leans her head against the wall behind her. She wonders how long the little girl has been watching her because this is her secret hideout. This is where she goes to escape the eyes of people who wish to talk to her. Two green eyes stare down at her as if she holds all the answers for every question in the world. "I think angry is a better word. I'm just _angry_."

The little girl settles in front of her, ready to listen to everything she has to offer. "Why are you angry?"

"How long do you have?" Clarke laughs to herself because it's truly ironic, the bravest person she's come across since her return is a little girl. "What's your name?"

"Amara Louise Baker." Amara answers proudly before she widens her eyes a little. "Are you going to tell me why you're angry or not?"

…

Amara Louise Baker is a constant in her life after that morning, always following her around asking questions left and right. She doesn't mind, not really. She stops drinking so much because she doesn't like it when Amara can smell the moonshine on her breath. It makes her feel pathetic. "So…" Amara kicks her feet back and forth while they eat lunch. It's a late lunch so there are more people around to eavesdrop on their conversation. No one understands why a little girl wants to hang out with someone so damaged, they all seem curious to know what Clarke Griffin could possible say to make Amara smile. "You used to be friends with Bellamy Blake?"

Clarke's breathing hitches because she _never _talks about Bellamy. She never wants to talk about Bellamy. She quickly says, "Yeah, something like that. How are you doing in your classes?" Amara is not done pushing the subject. Bellamy's name is widely known around the camp and people listen to him. They watch him with his grounder girlfriend, Echo, because she's "so pretty", "so amazing", and "so cool" and they're just "perfect together." Clarke hates Echo. She doesn't trust Echo. But, she doesn't trust anyone anymore so that's not saying much.

"Good. What kind of friend?" Amara asks with her face in her hands, "Do you love him?"

_Yes. _

Clarke clears her throat, "I cared for him once… as a friend, but that was a long time ago. A very long time ago. Can we talk about something else?"

Amara shrugs, "Fine…did you really kill your boyfriend?"

_Which one?_

Clarke swallows hard because suddenly she's not in Camp Jaha anymore. She's in fucking Georgia. People are screaming around her. Their crying and running for some type of refuge and she's covered in blood. She's covered in _his _blood and she doesn't know where she's walking or what she's doing because he's dead.

He's dead.

"Finn?" Amara specifies and Clarke's eyes move towards the food in front of her. She's not hungry anymore. "For peace. You killed Finn and now Lincoln and Echo can live with us." Clarke squeezes her hands together underneath the table. She is uncomfortable. Amara's logic is highly advance for her age but it hurts too much to face. "Did you love him?"

"I don't know anymore." Clarke lies, "That was a long time ago, too. Listen, Amara can we talk about something else? Like, anything else?"

Amara sighs and throws a berry in her mouth, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"I did." Clarke says and she doesn't know why she's even talking about Sebastian—Bass—because she swore she would never say his name again. She met Sebastian Harlow in The New Atlanta, Georgia their first day in town. He was so beautiful and she was recovering from Bellamy and Finn that she just _fell. _She fell so hard only to land on her face like all the times before. Bass was sweet. He was certainly different. If she had to compare him to either Finn or Bellamy, it would be Bellamy. He was the take charge type of guy with the rugged looks and large arms. Then, he wasn't comparable to anyone except a reaper. A monster. "He—he, uh died."

"Like Finn?"

"Yeah…" Clarke whispers, "A lot like Finn, actually."

Amara kicks the table with her foot, "Is he why you're really sad?"

"I thought we agreed I was angry." She narrows her eyes and forces a smile because she doesn't like being depressed in front of Amara either. She's a little girl, she shouldn't have to look up to a helpless drunk with social issues all the damn time. "C'mon, tell me about school."

…

Kane is sitting in the S&amp;C Hut again. She knows this, she knows that she has to go in eventually to talk to him. She wants to leave, this time because she knows that being around is a bad thing for Amara. She's no good. She's nothing, really. The girl has too much potential to hang out with a washout, former leader—former explorer. "Damn." She hears someone cuss behind her and she's positive that she hasn't heard his voice in a week. Clarke whips her head around to look at him, meet his brown eyes for the first time in forever. She can see the shock on his face because it's almost 7:30 PM and she's not three sheets to the wind. It's funny, she can't even remember the way it burns in her throat anymore.

Bellamy isn't that different. He's still an ass and she finds comfort in that. At least some things never change, right? "What are you doing here?" Clarke bites out because she doesn't need him eavesdropping on her plea to Kane. She's prepared to beg, cry, kick, and scream until she has a horse and a week worth of rations. She doesn't need him to go with her, she just needs to go somewhere else.

"You don't own this tent." Bellamy says back as if she were taking claim to it in the first place. She wasn't, for the record. "Are you going to stand out here or are you going to go inside? Hmm?" _Still an ass. _Clarke nods her head and thinks about punching him in the face before ducking into the tent. He follows her and by the look on Kane's face, it's a surprise to see them so close to each other in the same area. "She was here first."

Clarke breathes heavily before she starts talking, "I want to leave, Kane. I'm ready to leave."

She hears Bellamy snort, "Of course."

"I haven't heard a request in nearly a month. Why the sudden change?" Kane asks with a smile, "Run out of random idiots to sleep with?" By the look on Bellamy's face, he's not so pleased with Kane's sense of inappropriate humor. "No offense, Bellamy."

Clarke frowns but doesn't correct him. She and Bellamy never slept together but it didn't really matter now, did it? "It's just time to move on."

"You stop shaking yet?" Kane questions, "Stop spacing out every time you think about it?" He's trying to force her into an episode to prove his point. She doesn't want to give him the satisfaction but she knows that her hands are going to start shaking any minute. _This is for Amara… this is for Amara… you have to leave for Amara… _"If you would talk to someone about your problem, maybe I would consider it but Clarke, you're a liability at this point. Plus, you're still grounded."

Bellamy just stands there with his arms crossed, listening to Kane talk to her. He's curious, completely unaware that she was working through some type of post-traumatic stress disorder. Clarke opens her mouth and digs her toe into the dirt before she starts speaking, "It was Bass' blood, okay?" Clarke answers one of Kane's long running questions, receiving an arched eyebrow in response. "I killed Bass in Georgia. There, I talked about it so let me leave."

"Bass?" Kane steps forward, prepared to comfort her. It was too late for that. Too much time passed for it to hurt as badly as it did before. It wasn't even about Bass anymore—it was about Amara. "You, uh, killed your boyfriend…"

"The whole place was going down, Kane. I had to make the choice. Either kill him or kill everyone else." Clarke starts but she isn't prepared to finish her speech on how she's always making the hard choices, how she's always making the choice to sacrifice the people she cares about for the greater good—how this life isn't fair but it's all she's got. "I'm ready to get back out there. There are other towns, other people…I can't stay here."

"What about Amara?" Bellamy asks and it's the first real question he's presented to her that hasn't been soaked with disdain. "You're just going to leave her behind? Typical, Clarke. It's typical you…" He's getting angry with her and Clarke can't blame him. He wouldn't understand. Not really. "Every time something is going good, you throw a wrench in it."

"I'm poison." Clarke says, "I'm not going to sit around and wait for things to go to hell again. They always do. Amara deserves better. I can't do any better. This is me. People around me die, Bellamy. And you know it's true because you've been in Amara's place before and what did I do? I hurt you. So—" She brings her attention back to Kane, "Can I leave with your permission or not?"

"No. I'm not going to let you run away from your problems anymore, Clarke. You're grounded."

**A/N: I just wrote this to write it. I don't really know where I'm going with it. Suggestions would be nice. I love feedback!**


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